What hurts the most
by ThegirlwithRingonfirewholived
Summary: This is the sequel to, "How do I go on," so spoiler alert to anyone didn't read the prequel. Six months after the death of his wife, Watson still struggles with day to day life, while he and Sherlock try to survive with the impending threat, of a mobile Isabelle. An old enemy reemerges and old faces are called in to help. JJ seeks comfort, from a sympathetic friend.
1. Chapter 1

**What hurts the most**

**By: Thegirlwiththeringonfirewholived**

**London England**

**4:30 A.M**

**July 10****th ****2014**

"I'm coming Isabelle," John called out to his crying daughter. "I know you're hungry, it was supposed to be Uncle Sherlock's turn, but he's dead to the world," he said softly and reached into her crib.

His hands grasped only air. There was no trace of his daughter, anywhere. Immediately his heart escaped it's usual home and bounded off of every corner, in the flat.

"Isabelle," John screamed and heard the usual chatter of his baby, echoing off of the walls. "Sherlock, please tell me, you have her."

His feet were swept from under him, in his haste to reach his child.

"Isabelle," he shouted, but his legs seemed to be only stone.

He drug himself across the floor, with his hands growing heavier by the minute. His voice stopped turned into a high squeak, unable to call out to her. Sweat drizzled down his forehead, while his nails dug into the carpet.

"There you are," he smiled happily, but quickly frowned when he saw what she was grasping.

Sherlock's handgun, was being banged against the floor and the cabinets. Her finger stayed on the trigger, as if she was struggling to push it down.

"Isabelle, give it to daddy," he squeaked out, as she smiled towards him and placed it into her mouth. "Isabelle, put it down."

As were the fears of any parent, he sunk into the carpet, unable to move, unable to take this weapon from his daughter, before the bullet went through her skull and her blood splattered the fridge.

"Isabelle," he screamed.

**London England**

**5:00 A.M**

**July 10****th ****2014**

"John," Sherlock screamed and shook him awake.

"Sherlock," his best friend gasped for air and gripped his shoulders, furiously. "Sherlock, where's Isabelle?"

"In her portable," he reminded him. "You wanted me to stay up with her."

"Oh yes," John cried and ran to the living room. "How is she feeling?"

"She's been coughing, but other than that, she's okay," Sherlock shrugged. "What are you on about?"

"You need to get rid your gun," John said bluntly.

"No, no, not happening," Sherlock argued.

"Look, I just had a dream that Isabelle blew her brains out chewing on your gun," John hissed.

"Come on John, she can't crawl," his best friend reminded him.

"She will," Watson snapped and gazed down at his daughter. "She will be very soon."

"I don't understand John," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"We need to baby proof," he announced.

"John," Sherlock snickered, "you can't be serious."

"Oh Sherlock," he huffed. "I am dead serious."

"Look John," the detective frowned, "I will bounce her on my knee for three hours straight, rub her tummy when she gas and sing endless hours of the itsy bitsy spider. I even let her suck on my finger, because someone dropped her pacifier in my as you call, green goop. I have allowed some many good suits to be ruined, because she's teething. I will do almost anything in the world," he huffed and placed his arms across his chest," but I refuse to bolt down, every cabinet and crevice in this flat."

"We're baby proofing," John hissed and picked up his daughter.

"We are not," Sherlock shouted, as Watson walked from the room.

"Nine sharp," John called back.

"No John," Sherlock returned John's previous hiss. "I forbid it."

**London England**

**9:30 A.M**

**July 10****th ****2014**

"I cannot believe we are doing this," Sherlock growled.

"Tell me something," John asked, "what Isabelle fell into the toilet?"

"Well excuse for not being informed, that the bathroom door doesn't close," Sherlock rolled his eyes and rocked the sleeping baby against his chest, "and on top of everything else, we can't leave her with Mrs. Hudson because she's experiencing separation anxiety and I can't keep her, in the car seat, in the cart, because she screams bloody murder."

"She's a baby Sherlock," Watson reminded him. "You can't expect her to cry."

"She's a baby John, it's what they do," his best friend sighed.

"Well I think letting her cry is mean," her father replied and threw something into the cart.

"Well I disagree," Holmes argued.

"Well how is letting her cry, alright?" John asked, feeling rather frustrated, "especially when she's crying for us."

"She needs to learn how to self soothe," Sherlock rolled his eyes, as Isabelle opened one, causing him to bounce furiously to close it again.

"She's a baby Sherlock," he repeated himself. "You said yourself, she's helpless.

"Yes and she always will be, if you don't let her do anything for herself," his best friend shook his head and continued to bounce.

"Well I'm sorry Sherlock," Watson raised his voice, to make his point. "I don't like hearing her upset."

"I can't deal with this," Sherlock shouted and turned the corner.

"Where are you going?" John called out.

"Isabelle and I have some errands to run," Sherlock snapped, "I'm stopping by the flat, to get her stroller."

"Fine," John sighed in relief, "shopping will be much more enjoyable without you," he screamed, but Sherlock had already left the store.

**Quantico Virginia**

**4:30 P.M**

**July 10****th ****2014**

"Although, the London killer has been dormant for six months, she's back," JJ sighed and rubbed the bruises on her shoulder.

"We're going back to London?" Garcia asked, raising her pink pencil in the air, like a child in school.

"Yes Garcia," JJ replied, "once again the victims all went missing from hotels, so Mrs. Hudson has offered to let us stay again."

"How many more bodies, have they found?" Garcia cringed.

"One hundred this time," JJ frowned.

"Wheels up in thirty," Hotch announced.


	2. Chapter 2

Quick note, I only rated this fanfic rated T and most of the time it is, but there are M, elements for brief periods, be warned.

**Chapter Two **

**London England**

**10:30 A.M**

**July 10****th ****2014**

"Your mum would agree with me," Sherlock rolled his eyes and pushed the stroller to a booth. "I know you're not fond of crying, but I let you and let's face," he smiled and sat the ice cream on the table. "I'm your favorite."

He earned a proud smile, from Isabelle, as he unbuckled her from the stroller and placed her gently on his lap.

"Now, I know you're dad would have a heart attack, if he saw you eating ice cream," he snickered, "he seems to be under the impression that you have not grown any since your birth," Sherlock sighed and placed the spoon into her mouth. "Don't give her solids," he imitated John quite well. "Sherlock, don't feed her chips, she can't be used in your experiment, because you need a ten pound object," he said to her causing Isabelle's entire face, was a bright sun, just before opening up her mouth for another bite. "If you ask me, he'll have you in bubble wrap, before you learn to walk."

"Sherlock," Molly scolded, as she walked behind him.

"Molly," he glared and put the spoon back into the six months olds mouth, "you do know I have to kill you now."

"Why?" She rolled her eyes and sat across from them.

"Because you were the phone who told John, when I gave the baby candy," he said coldly, before snickering. "Now he keeps anything with sugar away from the flat."

"So I guess he doesn't know you're giving her chocolate ice cream?" Molly sighed, as Isabelle reached for the bowl.

"I will buy your spumoni if you don't tell," he offered and placed a spoonful in his mouth.

"Well for you information-

"Spumoni for Molly," a voice from behind the counter shouted.

"Fine Sherlock," she gave in and took the three dollars from him. "I do agree with you, Mary would be sharing a milkshake with her, by now."

"That's next," he smiled shamelessly and scraped the bottom of the container.

"Oh and if John catches you," she shook her head and made for the door, "you'll be kicked out of Baker's Street."

"Oh, he couldn't do it without me," he assured her, "it's my determination to spoil her with every fiber of my being and his to make sure I do make her obese or kill her."

"Good luck Isabelle," Molly laughed.

**London England**

**10:30 P.M**

**July 11****th ****2014**

"Come on Reid," Morgan rolled his eyes and held him up. "Does Jetlag still get to you that much?"

"Well I'm sorry if my body can't snap seven hours ahead after a seventeen hour flight," he scolded and dropped.

"I've got him," Derek laughed and threw Reid over his shoulder.

"Garcia you have the address don't you?" Hotch asked, feeling rather lost.

"Sir," she gasped, while her eyelids drooped.

"Garcia," he groaned, "how can you not know?"

"I'm sorry sir," she begged for forgiveness.

"So, we're in London, with no idea where to go," he hissed.

"Wait sir," she shouted, excitedly, "it was Chef's street."

"Bakers," a familiar voice rang out and approached them in the dark streets of London. "Welcome back to London," Sherlock smiled.

**London England**

**8:30 A.M**

**July 12****th ****2014**

"Why are you staring at him?" Morgan scolded, noticing Garcia's eyes locked on the detective.

"He's interesting," Garcia defended herself.

"He's drinking tea," he informed her.

"Well, we're waiting for the family to get here and Sherlock threw my computer out the window," she pouted.

"Why would he-

"They're here," Mrs. Hudson announced, interrupting the conversation. "Sherlock," she called out. "Sherlock."

"I'm coming Mrs. Hudson," he called back and stepped out, complelty naked.

"Sherlock, put some clothes on," Watson scolded and covered Isabelle's eyes.

"I have none," he replied casually.

"Sherlock, you own clothes of some form or another," John hissed.

"Let's just say, theoretically they were all burned," Sherlock replied.

"How were they all burned?" John sighed and hung his head.

"Let's just say, our bon fire victim and I wore the same material and leave it at that," he smiled, feeling particularly amused by the agents reactions.

"Underwear too," John and threw back his head.

"Shredder," he said, before the two burst out with childish giggles.

"Fine," he groaned, "just throw on a-

"Sherlock," Molly called out, "I got your message to come and meet the fam-

No one knew, what was going through Molly's head. Her eyes grazed over him, with an element of satisfaction and terror. She gave off a hint of I've been dreaming about this moment for so long and learning the difference between boys and girls. The surprise was not only Molly's, but Sherlock's as well, when he felt something raising. For the first time in his life. He was terrified. ,

**London England**

**12:30 A.M**

**July 13****th ****2014**

"Go talk to her," John hissed and pushed him towards the lab.

"What am I supposed to say," he snapped, "I'm sorry my lower half found you appealing."

"She'll understand," Watson scolded and pushed his through the doors and ran the other way.

"Oh Sherlock," Molly blushed.

"Molly," he shook, for the first time in his life, feeling uncomfortable around her.

"You know what if this is too weird-

"No, no," he sighed. "Let's go to lunch."

**London England**

**1:00 P.M**

**July 13****th ****2014**

"I am sorry for last night," he snickered.

"It's only natural," she smiled, "I mean I'm sure, it's happened a lot."

"Actually-

"Sherlock," Molly giggled like a school girl. "You never-

"Don't say it so loud," he groaned.

"You've never had an erection," she smiled, feeling rather flattered.

"No," he frowned.

"So tell me-

Before she could get out her last words, Sherlock's phone rang, giving him a perfect excuse to leave this rather awkward conversation.

"John," Sherlock whispered, as if this conversation were private.

"Sherlock," John whispered too, as if this were a game of some sort. "Why are we whispering?"

"We're not," he snapped.

"Fine," Watson sighed, "we have more bodies."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two **

**London England**

**3:00 A.M**

**July 12****th ****2014**

"I'm sorry honey," he shouted over the blasting music. "I know I promised to read to you, but daddy has to work."

"Again," his daughter cried.

"I know, I have to go," he insist and hung up the phone before she could protest and emptied the shot glass.

"Hey there," a voice said seductively.

"Hey there," he smiled evilly.

"This one's on me," she hissed and slid a drink across the table.

"What's a beautiful woman like you doing all alone?" He replied and took the drink.

"Waiting for a guy like you," she laughed and looked around, "what do you say, you finish that drink and meet me in the parking lot?"

"I'll say see you in five minutes," he lifted his glass and watched her glide away.

**London England**

**3:05 A.M**

**July 12****th ****2014**

"Hey baby," he stuttered and leaned in to give her a sloppy kiss.

"Climb in," she growled and opened the door of the white van.

"Alright," he smiled, not even hesitating.

"I hope you don't mind, but I invited a few other people," she informed him, "and I have to pick up a few friends, one of them is having a bachelor party."

"You do whatever you want baby," he giggled.

"Now, go in the back and get yourself comfortable," she sighed and pointed to where a screen hid. "Introduce yourself."

"You are the prettiest woman I've ever seen," he slurred and climbed back, after pecking her lips.

"You are the stupidest man I've ever known," she whispered and drove off.

**Chapter Two **

**London England**

**3:30 A.M**

"Howwww, dooooo, you- knowwwwww-," he sputtered out, but stopped to think. "Didddd, anyone, catchhh, herr nome?"

"I-I, ca-ca, call her soxy," another man smiled, while his eyes rolled around.

"When, en-en-, is she, coming back," the latest man asked and attempted to search for windows.

"I'm, not, sure," a dirty blonde hiccupped, from across the van.

"Wa-ait," another stopped the others. "I, hear, her."

"Das my girl," the dirty blonde smiled, as if her voice were a comfort.

"Aren't we such lucky guys," a tall man smiled as the van door opened.

"We, are," the others agreed.

"This going to be quite a night," they nodded and greeted, the twelve other men who joined them.

**London England**

**5:30 A.M**

**July 12****th ****2014**

"This is my bachelor party," a man who had on only is underwear announced, as they sat in the hotel room.

"Congratulations," the dirty blonde and the light blonde raised their glasses.

"Whennn, isssss, the bog day?" A man who called himself, Jeremy laughed and drank straight from the bottle.

"I-I, have no idea," he burst out laughing and sent the entire room into an uproar.

"I am on vacation, this is my senior trip," Jeremy giggled and stood up on the bed.

"How did you get away from everyone?" A man by the name of Harold, asked and swiped the bottle from him.

"I- I," he said real quietly, "I went out the wrong bathroom door," he shouted and threw himself down.

"You my friend are a genius," he smiled proudly.

"Yes, he is," her voice rang through the room.

"Let's get this party started," Harold shouted.

"We will," she smiled and opened a trunk. "Find your size and put these on."

Each man scurried to find the appointed outfit. They stripped as if no one else were in the room. They slipped on the striped shirts and suspenders.

"Very nice," she smiled, "now put on your makeup."

Once again, they were handed little containers, which some fought over. They brushed and polished until each of their faces were ghostly white.

"Now, follow me," she instructed and lead each of them into the parking garage where she had left her van.

They all got in voluntarily and waved to her as she closed the doors, behind them. They chatted like old friends and made fun of each other's makeup. They didn't even notice that they had stopped.

"Get out," she said harshly and each one did as they were told. "Now," she smiled and lined each of them up, so that they faced away each other. "I am very disgusted with all you. Today is my birthday and none of you have even made the effort to acknowledge it."

"We're sorry," they all said in unison.

"It's too late for that," she screamed, "but you what would make me happy. Balloons."

"I can-

"Don't bother," she hissed and pulled out a package of thirty, equaling up to the amount of men, which she lured there. "Now each of you put one in your mouth and place it in the back of your partners throat."

Harold and Lucas faced each other and placed the balloons in the others mouth. These were special, thin and long. Perfect for balloon animals and too shove down an a trachea.

"Perfect," she winked, "now blow."

Each man blew the balloon for all they were worth. "Some took longer than others, but eventually each man turned blue. They smacked the person across from them, but the woman's eyes, told them, to keep going. She seemed to find a rush, from this. Slowly but surely, each one dropped. The object was lodged so far down, that it left a lump outside of their throats. With a sly smile, she checked each heart beat, to make sure, none still remained. Feeling satisfied, she drove into the early morning, just an hour before they were found.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four **

**London England**

**1:30 P.M**

**July 13****th ****2014**

"Victim number twelve is Harold Star," JJ informed Reid and grabbed her shoulder.

"Does it still hurt?" Reid gasped and felt the muscles around it, feeling rather concerned.

"It's fine Reid," JJ sighed and attempted to push him away.

"No JJ," he scolded, "you dislocated your shoulder two months ago, this feels recent."

"I don't know what to tell you," she hissed, surprising her best friend in the world.

"Will's been drinking again," Reid stated and rubbed the bruises on her neck.

"Can we not do this here," JJ pleaded and turned away from him. "Who is the dirty blonde victim," she called out to Morgan.

"Jeremy North," Derek replied and glanced towards his student ID card. "He came here on a Senior trip, his friend said he went into the bathroom and never came out."

"Teacher said he was notorious for trouble," Emily added and snapped a photo. "They said he'd follow any girl who looked his way. He was only seventeen."

"Has anyone called his parents?" Hotch asked in his usual tone.

"I haven't had the heart," Garcia shook, "he's just, three years younger than Tony?"

"Yeah," she shook, "that too."

"What's his story?" Rosse shouted from across the park.

"He had a wife and a four year old daughter," JJ explained, "he told his daughter he had to work late."

"He had a daughter and abandoned her for a woman who would murder him," Watson sighed sadly. "What's his name?"

"Leon Carson," Greg replied and glanced towards his widow. "She's going to be raising her daughter all alone now. I can't imagine," he frowned and walked past Watson, without giving it a second thought.

"How old are the rest?" Hotch asked and knelt down beside Sherlock.

"Between twenty two and twenty five," the detective said and grazed the dirty blonde hair with his finger. "I think Jeremy was a victim of circumstance, wrong place, wrong time, but fit the physical characteristics, so she decided why not?"

"We'll need to get a hold of his parents," Hotch took in a deep breath and looked towards Morgan. "Garcia can't, you'll to."

"Alright Hotch," Derek rubbed the head and closed his eyes. "Please tell me, if she find this psychopath, we can send her to America and send electricity through her evil skull."

"I wish we could," Rosse shook his head, "I wish we could."

**London England**

**3:00 P.M**

**July 13****th ****2014**

"We'll be right there," John said in a panic and hung up the phone. "Sherlock, Sherlock," he shouted.

"What is it John?" The detective rolled his eyes, "I'm showing these Americans what real fish and chips are like."

"Apparently leaving her while she was asleep hasn't helped, she's been screaming for over an hour," John explained, as if this were a tragedy.

"I told you, let her scream, she hasn't been away from one of us for more than an hour her entire life, of course she's going to be upset" Sherlock scolded. "Tell me this, if Garcia had been used to only being with Morgan her entire life, if she were only used to him and not exposed to anyone. Wouldn't she feel upset, if she went to sleep and woke up to find me cooking her lunch, wouldn't she be terrified."

"That's different," John hissed.

"Yes, it is," Sherlock smiled and placed a chip in his mouth.

"You're not making any sense," Watson snapped and began to walk out the door.

"It's different because Isabelle is six months old," Sherlock reminded him. "She has no idea what this world is or what's safe and what's not nor whose safe and whose not. She's a ten pounds five ounces and two feet tall. Imagine how even the two people who undoubtedly love her most, must seem. She's probably terrified every second. Which is why it is our job to teach her and not be afraid of the world. She can't do that if every time daddy and Uncle Sherlock come to her aid. Please John, let's finish lunch and then we'll head back to Baker's Street."

"No," John growled, "I'm going for the exact reasons you said, she's ten pounds five ounces and is two feet tall, she needs me."

"John, John," Sherlock put his hand on his shoulder. "I can't let you go."

"How are you going to stop me?" He smiled smugly, just before he saw Sherlock's fist flying towards him.

**London England**

**2:00 A.M**

**July 14****th ****2014**

"What happened?" John groaned and sat up from the couch.

"She did it John," Sherlock smiled proudly and cradled the baby in his arms.

"Did what?" Watson asked groggily and rubbed his eyes.

"She calmed down for Mrs. Hudson," he laughed and kissed her head.

"She stopped screaming," John giggled and took her from him. "So does this mean, she's over separation anxiety?"

"She's on her way John," Sherlock replied, "she's on her way.

"I'll ask the doctor's opinion tomorrow," her father whispered.

"Tomorrow," Sherlock gasped and looked towards the floor.

"Her six month checkup," John whispered in a scolding tone. "Sherlock don't tell me you forgot about-

"Of course I didn't," he shook his head and began to back out of the room.

"Sherlock Holmes, do you remember what happened at our first doctors appointment?" John reminded him and slowly began to corner the detective.

"Come on John," he threw back his head with a fit of laughter, "so what if the doctor kicked us out of the office and called every other to warn them?"

"No, no," Watson growled, "that was when Mary was six months pregnant."

"No, I got us kicked out of there as well, but I'm thinking of when Isabelle was given her shots," Sherlock pushed his best friend out of the way and skulked towards his room.

"Wait, was that the time you pulled a gun on the nurse or you injected the doctor with a needle because you wanted to think twice before sticking it into another baby's leg?" John asked, now feeling honestly curious.

"Neither," Holmes replied,

"Oh, when you set the waiting room on fire?" John snickered, forgetting why he was mad.

"We were kicked out then too, but no," Sherlock smiled, "I was actually thinking about when I-

"Sent that nasty male nurse out, naked covered in that green stuff?" John cackled and sat back down.

"Precisely" he shook his head and joined his companion.

"Now we have to go to Scotland because, nowhere in England, will take us," Watson laughed fiercely and caused Isabelle's eyes to shoot wide open.

"Oh John," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "what would Mary say if she could see what we're doing to her poor daughter."

"I know," John giggled, "she'd say, Isabelle is lucky to be alive."

"Yes, I can hear her," Sherlock agreed.

"So I guess, you're feeling better," JJ smiled and interrupted their schoolboy giggles.

"Yes, yes I am," John smiled, noticing the baby's eyes, slowly closing once again.

"Here," Sherlock sighed and took the baby from his arms. "I'll lay her down," he stated and walked into his room, where he had the portable.

"So what are you doing up?" Watson asked and patted the couch for her to sit down.

"My shoulder, I dislocated it and it hurts like crazy," she sighed.

"Here," John offered, "let me take a look at it."

"Alright," she groaned and noticed him take a firm grip and pull, causing an attempted scream, but instead piercing her teeth through her tongue.

"Oh," he gasped and grabbed some tissues. "I'm sorry," he stuttered.

"It's fine," she smiled, "but my shoulder doesn't hurt anymore."

"Who put it back in for you?" He cringed, wondering if he wanted to know.

"My husband," she blushed, "he told me that we didn't need to go to a hospital."

"Well no offense, but he's and idiot," John said bluntly.

"He kind of is," she sighed and rubbed her shoulder.

"But a lucky one none the less," he nodded.

"How are you holding up?" She frowned and wiped a tear from his eye.

"I'm not going to lie," he shrugged. "There is not one day that goes by that I don't blow her a kiss or shed a tear. Every day, it feels worse."

"Because you feel guilty," she finished his sentence, "because everyday, you feel a little better, because each time you wake up, it reminds you that you're going to get through it. I know everyday it feels worse, because you feel better. Now I know I didn't know Mary, but she seemed like the kind of person who would want that hurt to stop."

"She would," John nodded, "but that's what hurts the most, is realizing that I can be happy."

"I bet you anything, that Mary is smiling right now," she reminded him.

"Oh JJ," John cried out, "you are-," he would never get out those last words, because of Mrs. Hudson knocking. "What is it Mrs. Hudson?" John hissed, feeling his moment interrupted.

"I'm sorry dear," she cringed, "but there's a gentlemen who just barged in here.

"Bring him up," Watson hissed, as the man stepped in causing JJ's eyes to widen, as they never have before.

With one simple word, her face burst into tears, one name rather, "Gideon."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five **

**London England**

**2:00 A.M**

**July 14****th ****2014**

"Gideon," JJ sobbed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It's great to see you again JJ," Gideon smiled and patted her back.

"How did you find us?" She gasped and looked into the familiar eyes, eyes she feared would never look upon her again.

"I heard you guys were in London and when Molly told me you guys were staying here-

"Wait," John scolded, not even sure who Mrs. Hudson had let into there flat. "How do you know Molly and how do you where here is?"

"Oh Jason, what is it?" Sherlock said crossly and pushed Watson out of the way.

"Oh sorry Sherlock," Gideon smiled proudly, at the baffled look on both JJ and John's faces. "I just heard that my team was here and I couldn't wait until morning to see them."

"Well if you're going by that logic, you waited until morning," he corrected him, "just not until the sun."

"Very good point," the former agent laughed and sat down on the couch, as if he were home.

"Would you like some tea?" Sherlock asked, as if this were a normal gathering.

"Not right now," he shook his head excitedly and turned to JJ, "where's Reid?"

"He's asleep," JJ replied and pointed to John's room, where the genius had passed out.

"Oh don't wake him up," Gideon snickered.

"I wasn't-

"I'll do it," he announced to the flat and burst through the door.

He took Reid's hands in his, like a mother with a baby whose learning to walk. He pulled slightly, resulting in an upright still sleeping agent. Reid's eyelids opened slightly and a faint smile crept across his lips, as they closed once again. Two seconds, it took two seconds, for his eyes to dart open with filled with horror. His feet sprang up, like a kid on a trampoline and landed cleanly on the bed. His body pinned against the wall while his heartbeat matched the rhythm of his lungs.

"Gideon," Reid panted, with a countenance of the utmost felicity and daze blending together into a single expression, an expression of pure terror.

"Yeah kid," Gideon smiled and outstretched his hand to a quivering Reid.

"You, you-" Reid stuttered, with every inch of his body trembling, as if he were in the presence of a ghost. "You came back," he squalled, reminding those we who remained awake of an extremely annoyed parrot.

Tears broke free from those innocent eyes, running down all sides of his cheeks. Escaping like prisoners through an open gate. They were sorrowful, yet joyful. They tears hurt, tears of longing. Tears of a reopened wound. A wound which had taken seven years to heal.

"I'm sorry Reid," Gideon cried out to him.

"You came back," Reid squeaked, causing himself to slap a hand over his own mouth.

"Reid," JJ attempted to calm him down.

"Get out," Reid screamed, before springing from the bed and landing flat in front of Gideon.

"Reid," JJ shouted with a tone of utter shock and disgust.

"You heard me," Reid screamed, yet again.

"Reid," JJ hissed, feeling completely taken aback by this uncharacteristic surge of anger.

"Seven years," Reid reminded him, until he had Gideon cornered. "Seven years, all I had was a note. You left me, wondering, racking my brain. Just trying to understand. Do you have any idea what I've been through. Where were you when I was shot? Where were you when my girlfriend was killed right in front of me? Do you want to know what I was thinking? Huh! I was thinking, where is he? Then I remembered, he left. He left, with only a note, to help me understand. After all we went through, was that all I meant to you. Every day I wonder, what could I have done? What could I have said to convince you to stay?"

"Reid," Gideon wept. "You know it wasn't you. This job-

"Yeah I know, this job, this job," Reid ranted, leaving JJ to wonder if he could even hear himself anymore. "What about us? What about the team? I thought we were in this job together. When we first met, I was a scared, brilliant kid, who was tired of being a punching bag. You took me under your wing and you showed me the ropes. You made me feel, like I wasn't a freak. Morgan told me from the day I started at the BAU, you don't turn your back on your partner and you did. How can I forgive you that? You know what? Just get out."

"What?" Gideon gasped.

"I don't want to see you ever again," Reid hissed, sounding vicious as a snake and stomped towards the front door. "Get out now!"

"Alright, alright," Gideon shook, unsure if this was the truly the young kid he left seven years ago. "I'm sorry Reid," he whispered, before shutting the door behind him

"Good riddance," Reid screamed and kicked his foot into the bullet holes in the wall.

"Who are you?" JJ shouted, just before slapping her best friend in the whole world across the face.

"What do you mean?" he growled in a deep throated pitch.

"You get out," she told him firmly and swung the door open. "You get out and don't come back until you remember the sweet, mild mannered, forgiving nerd I know you are!"

"Fine," he snapped and mumbled, something under his breath.

"You need to cool down that fire," she screamed and slapped him once again, leaving a noticeable red mark across his cheek. "You have the devil in you right now and that is not my Spence."

Reid slammed the door behind him, causing an uproar in the flat. The team must have heard the ruckus. How could they not?

"Where you going dear?" Mrs. Hudson fussed, but only earning the coldest shoulder, she'd ever received.

Reid marched furiously through the streets of London. The sounds of taxis were blaring, passersby, knocked him back and down. His foot was constantly being smashed beneath strangers shoes. No one stopped to ask why, he was so distraught. Every person had their business and that was that. No one seemed to have time to hand him a tissue or pat his back. He was truly alone. He was a goldfish in a world of sharks. He was out of place. He was small. He was vulnerable. He was prey. The agent was defenseless in a threatening world.

"Hey," an American accent boomed through the crowd. "Who do we have here?"

"Please go away," he whimpered, as three teenagers approached him quickly, just before he was thrown into an alley.

"My buddies and I," the voice crept down his back like an insect. "We're supposed to be on our senior trip, but it's not much of a party when you're teacher bans alcohol. So she take us sightseeing," the kid rolled his eyes and kicked Reid across the pavement, leaving behind three teeth. "I mean what is there to see? It's a clock. Anyway," he carried on and yanked Reid up by his hair, forcing the bitter fragrance of whiskey into his nostrils. "We spent our allowance, but were not finished partying."

Without another word, Reid's skull was smashed into a solid brick wall, where his blood left a trail as he slid down slowly. His shirt was ripped from his body and torn to shreds, with only two pens and a peppermint to show for their work.

"Take everything," the leader screamed, while standing guard.

Reid's pajama pants were off of him in a matter of seconds. They made quick work of them, leaving only remnants of fabric behind. They reached for the last piece of clothing, before one arm raised up and shot one of the assailants through the head, leaving the bullet and part of is his brain in a nearby bakery. Before the other two could react, their hearts were pierced, with the agents bullets. He wanted to check their pulses, but all he could do was scream, before passing out in a pool of his own blood.

**London England**

**12:00 A.M**

**July 16****th ****2014**

"This is all my fault," JJ sobbed into John's shoulder.

"You can't say that," he reminded her, "you had no idea, Reid was angry and he needed to walk. I do the same thing Sherlock all the time."

"You mean, you kick him out of the flat?" She questioned, not sure if she believed him.

"No, I take a walk," he snickered and rubbed her hair. "How bad was the damage?" He asked, trying to bring the subject back to Reid's predicament.

"The doctor said if he wakes up," JJ sniffed and dabbed a tissue against her eyes, "he won't be the same."

"How about the boys that mugged him?" John sighed and glanced towards the man with tubes and wires, coming out of every opening.

"Dead," she said proudly, "they found bullets from Reid's gun. Why didn't he pull it sooner?"

"He was caught off guard," Watson replied calmly, "he was distraught. Do no blame yourself," he repeated and pressed her against him.

"I can't help it," she cried and stood up to gaze over her partner. "I screamed at him and sent away, now look what's happened."

"Jennifer," John hissed, feeling tired of her doing to this to herself. "Unless, you're the one who bashed in his head, then have no right to pin this on yourself. Do you understand?

"I wish it were that simple John," she replied, "please just go."

"Alright, do you want me to send in Emily or Garcia?" He asked sadly and pointed towards

"No," she shook her head, "I just need a minute by myself."

"Fine," he sighed, his eyes bloodshot with sleep deprivation and guilt.

He walked into the waiting room, where Gideon was crouched into a corner, with his head drooping against the wall. Garcia and Emily sat consoling one another. Morgan stood away from group, not even trying to mask the tears.

"How is he?" Hotch asked hurriedly, the minute John walked into the room.

"No change," Watson shook his head sadly and took Isabelle from Sherlock's arms.

"JJ is staying with him tonight," John announced, "so I just we all go back to Baker's Street and get some sleep. We can't forget that we've got a serial killer to catch."

"How can you even be thinking about that?" Morgan screamed and slammed his fist against the wall.

"John's right," Rossi explained, "Reid wouldn't more bodies to turn up, just because we're sitting around. JJ will be here when he wakes up."

"If he wakes up," John reminded Dave.

"There's no if about it," Rossi said sternly, "he's waking up."

"Then let's go catch ourselves serial killer," Morgan smiled, but wiped a tear from his eye.

**London England**

**2:00 A.M**

**July 17****th ****2014**

"We're missing something in our victimology," Emily groaned and threw her head into the table.

"I know I'm missing something," Sherlock hissed, as he paced around the flat. "How does a particularly small woman move twenty to one hundred bodies at once?"

"Without getting caught," Morgan added, as he sipped the same cup of tea he hated for fiftieth time.

"That's the million dollar question," Rossi sighed.

"Is that what you idiots are worried about?" Sherlock said bluntly and smacked the nearest, who just so happened to be Emily.

"You've had it figured it out this entire time," Garcia choked through her tea, staining the back of John's pajamas.

"We thought you did too," John groaned and went to the kitchen for a towel.

"If we did, we might have made an arrest by now," Hotch snapped and knocked a biscuit out Morgan's hand. "You two are not just working amongst yourselves anymore."

"Actually we are," Sherlock smirked and stood up to face him. "Your team is just in the way."

"Hey, don't you-

"This is because of Haley isn't it," Sherlock scoffed whilst walking towards the kitchen.

"How do you know anything about Haley?" Hotch shouted, feeling anger bubbling up.

"I know you were still in love with her, when she was murdered," Sherlock was once again spot on.

"How do you-

"You have her name tattooed on your back, no one else sees it. A concept which is strange when you consider the pain of such a thing, meaning it was for your benefit and can only be see by you. The tattoo reads, R.I.P. Haley. You were most likely married at one point. You still wear the mark, where a ring was worn for many years, if had died while you were married, you would keep it," Sherlock carried on, as if he were simply writing Hotch's biography and getting the details, frighteningly correct. "If she had simply died of disease, you would speak of her. No, someone murdered her and you murdered the one that did it. Your hands show scars, scars that come from beating a person severely, to the point of death. You don't take that kind of anger out on someone who murdered a woman you were once in love with. He must have been a serial killer, judging by the fact that you're not in prison."

"I'm surprised you haven't ended up in our interview room," Hotch trembled and turned away from him.

"Do me, do me," Garcia pleaded, pulling Sherlock to the couch.

"You, my dear," he smiled and took her hand, "are brilliant. You always have been, but your early years were something of a wild time. You had a son out of wedlock, whose fourteen now. His father was never involved, because he was electrocuted by one your computers when he spilled soda on it, the night you told him you were pregnant."

"How do you-

"You talk about his father," Sherlock said quickly, "you wouldn't talk about a man like that, who left your son fatherless."

"How do you know how he died?" Garcia gulped, feeling a knot in his stomach.

"Your hands carry burns, burns from an electric shock. They seem to be about fourteen years old, tell it is that a coincidence that you have burns the same age as your son, who happens to no father?"

"You are terrifying," Garcia gasped and leaned her head against Morgan.

"Thank you," he smiled proudly. "Now would you like to know how the murderer is transporting these men?"

"Please," Morgan rolled his eyes, feeling rather impatient.

"They move themselves," he shrugged, as if this were obvious.

"That makes sense," Rossi frowned and stood up to pace.

"If they're all drugged it's perfect," Morgan agreed, "she doesn't have to lay a hand on them."

"We're going to need some more tea," Sherlock insisted, causing Morgan to throw back his head.

"Do we really need tea every second of the day?" Derek sighed and glanced towards the cup, he hadn't finished. "One of these days when you come to America, I'm doing this to you with cheeseburgers."

"I look forward to it," Sherlock called back.

"I'm going to check on Isabelle," John groaned and rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

"Rossi," Gideon asked and grabbed the agents arm, "can I go to the hospital and relieve JJ, I really need to see him."

"That's a good idea," Rossi replied, sending Gideon through door in two steps.

"Biscuits," Mrs. Hudson smiled and brought up another tray.

"No more biscuits," Derek snapped, wanting to knock the plate from her loving hands.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Hudson giggled, "you're a bit of a grumpy one aren't you?"

"I just haven't slept, since they found Reid," he apologized and took a biscuit out of pity.

"Not to worry dear," she said kindly and rubbed his head. "When Sherlock died, I didn't sleep for ages."

"Sherlock's alive," Morgan shouted, to no avail.

"I haven't always been," the detective snuck up behind the agent, sending Derek flying from his chair.

"Why do always do that?" Morgan scolded and gripped his chest.

"For the pleasure of your terror," Sherlock bowed and took a sip of tea.

"Just stop," Morgan hissed and took a seat on the couch. "Alright genius," Morgan snapped, "tell me how you know Gideon."

"Now, that is a very long story, but one for another time. Let's just say, some zombies were responsible and leave it there for now."

"What?" Garcia blurted, "no, no you're scary, you would find someway to make zombies real. I need to call my son," she stammered and walked out the front door.

"Is she-

"She'll be fine," Hotch assured him and watched John walk out of the room. "John, I need two people who knows these streets better than any of us."

"What do you need?" John asked and attempted to wipe the vomit off of his shirt .

"Talk to locals, this killer strikes at night, which in our profile shows that's when she's the most comfortable. She might work a nightshift, at a pub or is even a nurse. She'll want to blend in."

"We're on it," he replied, meeting Sherlock by the door. "Emily, can you keep an eye on Isabelle for me?"

"No problem," she smiled and threw him a shirt from a nearby laundry basket.

"She'll need to ear around five and their spare nappies on my bed," he called out, as he and Sherlock dashed out the door, doing what they do best.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six**

**London England**

**2:30 A.M**

**July 17****th ****2014**

"So," John asked, as he and Sherlock sat in the pub. "We're looking for a young girl, very attractive, in her twenties, who doesn't stand out."

"Precisely," Sherlock replied and placed his fingertips to his mouth.

"So are we going to just go door to door looking for a beautiful twenty year old?" Watson sighed, feeling exasperated.

"That's not a-

"Sherlock," John warned him, before throwing his head into the table. "We are not going on a serial killer scavenger hunt. "Let's say we do find her, do you honestly think she's going to come quietly."

"Fine, fine," the detective rolled his eyes and glanced to the man behind him, who had randomly burst into tears.

Without even thinking, John pulled out a pacifier. Sherlock snatched it, from his best friends trembling hand and placed into the mouth of the weeping man.

"What was that about?" The man shouted and spit it out.

"Isabelle, go night night," Sherlock said softly, but in a scolding tone.

"Sherlock," John snickered, realizing what they had done. "He's not Isabelle."

"You're not," Sherlock burst out laughing and slapped the table. "I just see tears and-

"You think, paci," John finished his best friends sentence.

"Did I actually say night night, to adult?" Sherlock cackled, not even hiding one giggle.

"You said night night, " John repeated, throwing himself back in a fit of pure laughter.

"Night night," the famous Holmes said childishly.

"You know what Sherlock," John shouted, causing an uproar in the pub.

"What's that," Sherlock asked and wiped the moisture from his eye.

"We've forgotten what it's like to be around other people," he giggled, "You know what that means?"

"We're those crazy baby people," the chuckling man shouted to the entire pub.

"Hey morons," the man with the pacifier in his mouth screamed and spat across the room. "I was crying because I just found out, I can't leave the country. I've been trapped here for six months, because three idiots on our senior trip have been killed. I am starting college next month, I haven't signed up for classes, I haven't bought books, I haven't even enrolled."

"Look, I'm sorry," John frowned, but let out another little snicker. "My wife died, six months ago and it's my, um," he hesitated, wondering how to introduce Sherlock's role in Isabelle's life. My brother," he spat out, but decided to with it. "My brother and I are raising her right now and it has not been easy."

"I understand," the kid sighed and kindly retrieved the paci, "I'm sorry, he sniffed. I have just a really rough," he paused, "life."

"No problem mate," John smiled, "look I'm sorry you're stuck here."

"Well it's not your fault," he sighed sadly and stood up to walk out. "Let me give you some advice, you keep your brother close."

"Let me guess, you don't get along with yours?" John asked kindly, as if this young were a patient.

"No, never have," he said, his face showing much sorrow, "never will."

"Well maybe, one day you will," Watson replied and held the door open, for the now rather pleasant young man.

"Oh if you only knew my family," he shook his head, "you might take that back."

"Believe me," John assured him, "you haven't met mine."

"Well maybe if I ever see him, we'll trade off and see whose worse," he smiled.

"If that ever happens, I'll need to know your name," Watson asked kindly and reached out for his hand.

"I'm Sam," he said respectfully, "Sam Winchester."

"I'm John and that's Sherlock," he introduced himself and his best friend.

"Nice to meet you," he nodded and began to step outside. "By the way, I hate your name," he snickered and walked down the streets of London."

"Nice to meet you too," John rolled his eyes and walked back to Sherlock. "That was strange and please don't break him down, I am not in the mood for you to be you."

"Oh John," Sherlock scoffed, "I'm offended."

"Well you don't have time," Watson said quickly, "we have five more business owners to speak with and two hospitals."

**London England**

**2:15 A.M**

**July 17****th ****2014**

"Please Reid," JJ sobbed, with tears spewing from her eyes. "You need to wake up. Garcia can't be the only brilliant one, she'll get a big head. We need you Reid. Spence, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I yelled at you. You had every right to be angry and I shouldn't have sent you out all alone. Please, please, Spence. I can't, I can't, I can't live in a world, where you aren't roaming. Where you're not locked in your apartment with a pile of books. I can't live where you aren't. I can't get up every morning, knowing," she choked and wept into his frail hand, "knowing that you're not waiting for me. I can't climb on the plane, knowing that you're not getting on right behind me. We can't have the BAU with you. You are the heart and soul of the team. You keep me smiling, you help me remember why we do this job. You get me through, all the blood and the violence. You never turned your back on us, not for one minute. Whose going to have my back now? You can't leave me with somebody the bureau throws my way. You can't do that to me. I can't have another partner, I can't work with anybody else, knowing that you're-." she wailed and leaned her head against his chest. "that you're dead."

"He's not going anywhere," Gideon assured her.

"Gideon," JJ sobbed, "it's late, what are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing?" He asked and opened his arms for a warm embrace.

"I'm staying with Reid," she replied, just moments before his heart stopped.

** I'm sorry to leave you there, but there will be a third fanfic, being posted hopefully within a week or so. So until then.**

** Sincerely, Thegirlwiththeringonfirewholived. **


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